I feel like I’m looking through a glass.

I’m the outsider,

They’re excelling, I’m stalling,

My rational face revels in their achievement,

While the green eyed monster bitterly lurks, ever present.

I feel like I can’t cross the line.

I’m the foreigner,

They’re connected, I’m distant,

My person keeps running into the wall, never through the door,

While my anxious mind tries to break into their circle, worries I’m out of their league.

I feel like I’m on the edge, can’t catch up, or fit in.

I’m the inferior one.

They’re bonded, I can’t relate,

But I’m the piece that completes their jigsaw, feels so right,

How can it be that it’s me they welcome and want? Me?